Tracing Q
by Nike508
Summary: nc-17 007/00Q. Q is pronounced dead after the tragic accident, but Bond refuses to believe it; instead, Bond searches for Q. What will he find at the end?
1. Q

I am not fluent in English nor a decent amateur. I am just letting out my wild imaginations, just to get Skyfall out of my mind. I admit that I ship 007/00Q and admire those who write extraordinary fan fictions about them. I am not posting this to impress others and make them follow me. I am just another 007 fangirl, who happens to watch first 007 as Daniel Craig ever since I was a little girl. Now that I ship male/male couples, I just have to let the frustrations out.  
Like I mentioned, my English is not fluent, because it is not my first language. Also, I only know little knowledge about 007 series (I never knew the existence of Q until Skyfall). If I happens to stray away from original canon, I humbly ask you guys to correct me. Thank you.

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**Setting: few months after Skyfall  
Disclaimer: You know what I don't own.  
Warning: This is M/M fiction. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ.**

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The accident would not have occurred, if Q accepted James Bond's offer to guard him. The accident would not have occurred, if M held Q for one more minute after a meeting. The accident would certainly not have occurred, if Q happened to stay in office after four days of improper rest and office work. Of course, the accident had to happen at the exact moment when Q just sat down in the chair of the city bus, with his computer stored in his personal backpack hanging on Q's back.  
A lorry holding hundred pounds of explosives punctured through the city bus, containing 17 people total. It blew into the flames, the fire huge enough to destroy the cars that just happen to drive next to the city bus. The fire lasted about 2 hours, and when the firefighters extinguished the last bits of flame, all 17 personals were found dead, leaving nothing but bones and melted flesh.

One was pronounced Q's.

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**P.S. Chapters can be short, if are necessary.**


	2. Mike

Hi... Thank you for reading :)**  
Setting: few months after Skyfall  
Disclaimer: You know what I don't own.  
Warning: This is M/M fiction. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ.**

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When Eve Moneypenny informed that Q had died of the accident, James Bond, a.k.a 007, had just came back from a mission in Siberia. At first, Bond thought Moneypenny was joking, thinking it as another Q's prank, but as soon as Tanner added thorough details, Bond turned awestruck. His mouth closed for a very long time. Bond could remember the last phone call from Q, his sweet voice wishing Bond a safe trip. If only felt like Yesterday, that Bond caressed Q's messy, dark chocolate hair after a hard, invigorating intercourse. He could clearly remember Q smirking like a child and kiss him back as an answer. Now, Q is dead; he has turned into nothing but a memory. Still feeling unsure, Bond asked, "you sure about this? You sure this was just an accident? Somebody could have set it up."

"We checked all the surveillance tapes, Q's history on the computer, and his recent calls. Right before the accident, Q stayed in the main branch for 4 straight days, decoding the last bits of Silva's hard drive. We can hardly believe his recent actions would've attracted criminals," Tanner handed Bond a printed copy of Q's computer history, accessed through MI6 wi-fi. He continued, "the only oddity we found is the note he left underneath his mug. It says 'trace Mike.' Does that mean anything to you?"

Nothing, Bond thought. Why would Q leave such an ambiguous note? Is this some kind of computer code or a name of the assassin? Is he asking for a revenge? Is it a hint at all? Bond could hardly believe Q is dead, but moreover believing in the fact the greatest computer genius is died of an accident. An accident! There has to be more than just an accident; and if the note was left for reason, it could lead to the cause. Anyways, Bond could link nothing to a word 'Mike.' "I don't know."

Tanner and Moneypenny could hear Bond's voice cracking up slightly, loud enough to notice a hidden remorse. They knew Bond and Q were in a special relationship ever since the Silva incident; they wouldn't call it a love, for that word is too sentimental for Bond.

Moneypenny broke a silence, "an investigative team is searching for any computer code or physical traits that could link to 'Mike,' but so far nothing has showed up. We first believed his death could somewhat link to something more, but after weeks of research, we are almost certain his death is purely coinciden-"

"How did he die?" Bond asked. Though she was interrupted, she was kind enough to answer him.

"Q died in the bus. The lorry containing the hydrogen gas containers could not hold its weight and skid right through the bus that was intercepting the 4-way traffic. the gas leak cause fire and sparked an explosion, killing everybody on board in an instant. The bus held total 15 civilians, one driver and one MI6 agent."


	3. Dreaming the Past

Gosh, I was being redundant in chapter 2. I will try to make the progress faster. By the way, I've never written nc-17 novel in English, so some parts may feel awkward. I hope you guys could advice me...**  
**By the way, this is 007/Q's past, happened after the Skyfall.**  
**

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**Setting: few months after Skyfall  
Disclaimer: You know what I don't own.  
Warning: This is M/M fiction. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ.**

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_"007, please don't touch me. Can't you see I'm working?" even though Q clearly chooses computer over his 007, Bond kisses his neck and pulls his T-shirt up. Q barely keeps himself straight and tries his best not to moan. If he does, then he would lose to Bond. Bond, on the other side enjoys Q's funny expressions, he knows just what part of his body to tickle. Bond continues on with a seductive voice, "what if I say no?"_

_Q and Bond are at Q's flat, where Bond is ordered to stay after Silva incident. The new M thought that sharing a flat would somehow increase the affinity between 007 and Q. At first, Q thought it was a decent idea, since Bond could halve the rent. Q could save money for his own devices, instead of using government-owned devices. Every now and then, government implanted trackers for every devices. Q would really need some privacy, for his own interest. Plus, Bond is usually out of country for work, so Q did not have to worry much about 'sharing.' Q believed he could cope with a situation somehow, until Bond brought guests into the flat._

_Both Bond and Q were too occupied with their jobs, but when they happened to sleep in on a same day, Bond would bring a girl or two and have audible sex, too loud for sleepy Q to rest properly. Q thought Bond was doing it on purpose, so he could send M the request for another flat. Only, stubborn Q did not want to lose to an old guard dog. After a week of noisy nights, Q found his way to avoid the noise: earplugs. After about a month, he could no longer have to wear earplugs at night._

_But then, Q realized Bond has changed his target: Q himself. The first day, Bond talked excessively about his laptop. The second day, he stole Q's mug. The third day, he slept in Q's bed. The fourth, he made physical contacts with Q. Although Q had no idea what Bond was doing, surely his actions irritated Q, driving him to an edge._

_It has been a week since Bond started to physically touch Q. Q is glad that he does not have to hear any more girls moaning and bed creaking at night, but Q does not know how to respond to a new sensation. Nobody has touched him in a sexual motive; in fact, Q never touches himself, believing it as only waste of time. Q sighs and pulls Bond away, "Don't you have better things to do?"_

_"This is the best thing I can do," Bond snickers, breathing into Q's vermilion ears, "come to bed."_

_'That's it,' Q shuts his computer off, finally looking back to Bond. Q's forehead is wrinkled to center due to irritation, "what are you implying, Bond?" _

_"What do you think I am implying? You know what I am doing. Use your smart-arse brain," Bond's right-hand fingers gently push Q's chest in, giving Q goosebumps. Q fidgets, pulling Bond's hands out his t-shirt. Q answered, "you are touching me."_

_"It means, 'let's have sex,'" Bond kisses confounded Q aggressively, as his hands lock Q's arms. Q cannot understand Bond, because he has thought of Bond only as a colleague. Q can only breathe irregularly, for he never kissed before. Even though Q is a genius with computers, he is a novice with this kind of knowledge._

_"Wait, 007, this-, is-, ir-, rational-!" although Q is much younger than Bond, he is no match for a trained field agent. When their mouths depart, Q gasps for air. Bond is confounded, "you are acting like a virgin over a kiss. Wait, are you a vir-."_

_"Shut up, 007, of coursed I've kissed before. Who would not know how to kiss?" Q lies. He feels like an idiot, wiping saliva on his apple-red lips. Bond smirks, "of course, Q."_

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Q woke up on a concrete ground, with his hands chained on his back. He could remember bits of the dream and wonder why he dreamed of the past, the beginning of their relationship. Remembering the flat chained into a question why he is not in a place he is not supposed to be. He is kidnapped.

"Hello, sleepyhead," a thick, baritone voice rang as if they were inside a building. Q only assumed, because the daylight temporarily blinded his vision. The man's footsteps drew near, "how was a trip?"

"Where am I?" coughs continued by a question. Q is dehydrated due to freezing atmosphere, way below London's average fall temperature. The man hurried to Q, assisting a glass of water to his mouth, "here, this should help. I was so worried that you fainted on the way. I thought you would never wake up, no, that cannot happen. You are too important for me."

Although the vision is still hazy, Q could recognize the Russian accent. It was a voice of a childhood friend, who always supported Q. It was a voice of a colleague, who helped Q to invent a portable computer. It was also of a traitor, who killed Q's parents. After few seconds, Q could see the tall Russian male, cradling Q's head on his lap. Q asked in an angry tone, "why am I here?"

The man gave an insidious smile, his blue eyes sparkling with happiness, "because I missed you, Ben."

Q shuttered, as if he was having a nightmare. The man gave Q a baby kiss on his forehead and lifted him to a white couch, "oh, you poor thing. Should you like a drink to ease your nerves?" The man walked over the couch. Q could hear glasses clinking. They were in an isolated house, decorated in pure white. The fireplace was just began to heat up the reception room, where Q is resided. Q sat down properly, thinking of a possible escape. There was no window, so assumed they were in a basement or some sort.

"There is no way to escape this pension. A snowstorm has been covering this place for quite awhile," the man returned with two glasses of vodka. He placed one on the table and sat next to Q, "The walls are not made out of concrete, but of glasses. It is white, because you are seeing snow through the glasses."

The man changed the topic, "so, you grew up like I imagined you to be. Just like your father."

"Go figures," Q replied passively, "you haven't aged at all."

"Oh, you flatter me, Ben. You certainly have become more eloquent over the past few years," the man gestured for a drink.

'Thanks to Bond,' Q thought. Certainly Q became more wordy than he felt was necessary, "no, thanks. I don't drink."

"Oh shame, It's 1891," the man finished a drink.

"Why did you bring me here now? If you missed me, you could've kidnapped me earlier," Q asked a question that he already knew the answer, "is it because of Silva?"

"Clever boy," the man caressed Ben's messy hair, scrutinizing until Q could not stand anymore. Even though the man was only touching a hair, Q felt as if a snake was harassing his whole body, "but you know there is more than that. But before we discuss more in details, I noticed that you never called my name."

The man whispered through Q's ears, "hmm, you remember my name, don't you?"

"Why wouldn't I? You took everything from me, Vladimir."

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P.S. I am using Ben Whishaw's name for Q's real name, because I don't know Q's name. Tell me if Q has a real person name.


	4. Cambridge Mug & Dreary Night

Thanks for reading and for support. :) I love you all, especially kasumiwind. I love you the best, because you actually spend time to review and make my feelings wholesome.

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**Setting: few months after Skyfall  
Disclaimer: You know what I don't own.  
Warning: This is M/M fiction. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ.**

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Bond couldn't remember the last time he saw Q's favorite Cambridge mug on the kitchen table. At first, Bond was not interested in cooking, but really, Bond was certain it was the first mug he had broken the day joined the flat. Bond thought Q had thrown it away, but it was present, glued into one piece again. It sat alone on the wooden table, as if it was waiting for its master.

The flat was dark, for only a street light dimmed through stuffy window. The light would reflect the kitchen, where Q had resided most of the times. Q was not interested in cooking either; it had the table only available for Q's computer. Q had used the wooden table so many times, that it left discolored rectangle in the center.

Bond let himself on the chair, in front, and scrutinized the cracks of the mug. His right thumb followed the cracks then to the Cambridge logo, sensing the bumps and fractures. Inside, was a dark brown ring stained about a centimeter from bottom; it smelled like Q's favorite earl gray tea.

Although Bond never bothered to ask the relations to Cambridge or the mug itself, Q seemed to cherish it. Bond had never seen Q giving such compassion to non-electronic tools. Usually, Q discarded all the mugs Bond had broken; needless to say, Bond had seen plenty of times. 'Here goes another one,' Q would always say.

The night was dark and dreary, maybe too dark to comfort a steel-heart assassin. Bond couldn't remember the last time he called the night lonely, and felt so extraordinary silent, even for the top marksman of Britain himself. And perhaps for the first time in his life, Bond was scared of dreadful silence, the assurance that no other living thing resided in the flat.

Tomorrow, a funeral will be hold. Tomorrow, all Q's belongings will be turned to archive. Everything about Q will disappear. And Bond could do nothing to prevent it.


	5. Silver Watch

Thanks for reading and for support. I love you all, especially kasumiwind. I love you the best, because you actually spend time to review and make my feelings wholesome.  
I have been busy with the audition, which happened last Saturday. I had to devote my time practicing, because our district orchestra audition is the hardest of all PA districts. Thankfully, I got 3rd, which I am really happy about. I will try to upload as fast as I can, but as my schedule goes with multiple college essays due by end of the year and Science Fair experiments, I won't be able to upload much. I hope to quicken the pace by January.  
Anyways, I hope to enjoy it :).

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**Setting: few months after Skyfall  
Disclaimer: You know what I don't own.  
Warning: This is M/M fiction. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ.**

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_"007, are you alright?" Q's soft voice calls Bond to consciousness, the reality. He has been in sleep for three days. Bond hardly opens his eyes and finds his companion. Q lets out a relieved sigh, "you almost got killed."_

_Q and Bond are at the French hospital room, where bell chimes ring as wind dances through an open window next to Q. Q is sitting next to Bond's bed, colored bleach white just like the rest of the room._

_"How do I look?" Bond barely whispers, but Q understands. "Beaten," Q replies._

_Bond smirks, for he knows Q tries to hide his worries. For now, Q is glad Bond is even alive in one piece. Bond had come to France for the mission, with an assignment for the extraction of the source. MI6 had been fighting against the shadow that claimed that it has the source to destroy the United Kingdom. Although MI6 did not know what it was against, Bond had to take out the source or destroy it completely. When Bond arrived to the destination that Q tracked, death trap was waiting for him._

_Miraculously, Bond survives, with some burnt spots, scraps, and head trauma from hitting his head against the wall due to force of explosion. Otherwise, Bond seems fine._

_"I'm sorry," Q apologizes and lets his head down, for causing Bond in such state. Instead of words, Bond shoves his left hand on Q's hair and messes it around. Q is confused, "007?"_

_"It's Bond. James Bond," Bond raises his body and reminds Q his name, "call me my name, Q."_

_Q smiles, for Bond obviously attempts to use Q's sentiments. He recognizes Bond's needled hands heading for Q's waist. Q stands up and replies, "only if you promise me to go back."_

_Bond notices unfamiliar baggage nearby, "What about you? Do you intend to stay?" Q answers yes, "I have your unfinished mission to finish."_

_"A mission? I thought the source was blown up," Bond discontinues his approach. Q hands Bond a tablet from his bag, which contains the new information about the shadow's hideout. Bond scrutinizes while Q replies, "apparently the shadow, a.k.a. Umbra, has created another copy of the source for himself. We had sent three agents to Austria-" Q, still searching inside his laptop bag, "but we found two floating on the Rhine river. They are dead."_

_"Where is another one?" Bond asks while disconnecting the needle. Q, still searching, answers, "with Umbra. It sent a video directly to MI6 Yesterday. It wanted to provoke us."_

_Bond halts, noticing Q's word, 'directly,' "Umbra hacked into MI6?" Q sighs uncomfortably, "not exactly. But I was surprised to see the video sent to my email account, entirely separate from MI6. We believe we are facing a crime organization led by the high intellectual hacker; we have come to conclusion that it wants to meet me directly, guessing by the destinations of the email. That's why I am sent here. I am here to hack it back and find the source."_

_Bond, now in suits, stares at Q. Bond stays silent not for the fact Q has come to France, but for the fact even though he is exposed to Umbra, he still came here to finish what Bond could not finish, "you need help."_

_"No, I don't. Not from a beaten agent," Q retrieves the tablet and hands Bond a box, "but if I do, use this."_

_Bond opens the box and find an ordinary silver watch, "what this will do?"_

_Q smiles, "you will know when the time comes."_


	6. Losing Hope

Thanks for reading.  
This chapter is in first person POV. If you did not know, this is rated nc-17.  
I warned you.

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**Setting: few months after Skyfall  
Disclaimer: You know what I don't own.  
Warning: This is M/M fiction. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ.**

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"You are a stubborn child, Ben. How long it will take for you to realize this is futile?" Vladimir cynically laughs, as he majestically swings around a blood-stained Russian sword. Few drops dyes snow-white wool floor into red and brown. He walks around the floor and his blooded shoes further expand the blooded territory. Red and white. And Black. A man in pure black and royal red jumps around hysterically, almost like a dance of a demon.

I shiver, of cold and lost of blood. My arms are chained in opposites, and my legs helplessly writhe in mid-air. Icy atmosphere traps my heart, quickly decreasing the sound of heartbeat. I cannot move, for I have lost all my energy to physically resist. I only stare at him, the man with a sword.

Because my glasses are taken, I can only see a black, blurry dot swirling around me, humming like a child in an amusement park. He cuts me with a sword, some shallow, some deep. Too much blood has been spilled and splattered. It's getting hard for me to concentrate.

He suddenly pulls my head and bites neck hard. I scream like hell. I am sure he took a chunk, though I am definitely not fascinated by it. It burns as he licks it back, as if he is apologizing for this barbaric act. He murmurs gently, "though I wanted this. I love the taste of you."

He is a freak. A monster. Although I knew he loved me, but his insatiable hunger overwhelms me.

His mouth traces upward, then he kisses me. His tight arms chokes my chest, making me harder to breath. A breath of urban cigarette and iron rots my shut-tight mouth. I tremble, for I know Vladimir would slap me for submission. Instead, he whispers my name, "Ben, you should know your act only shows your stupidity. Why would you stay loyal to MI6, if it had already given you up? Everybody thinks you are dead."

"Not everybody," I tremble slightly and cough red, "one knows."

"Ah, your flatmate. Bond, I believe," Vladimir turns away, and reaches for another iron tool. His black pyjama is wet in thick liquid, which contrasts with sharp knives displayed on a kitchen table. He faces me with double-bladed hand knife, "oh, Ben, this is why I said this is futile. Your weeks of plans, codes, secret messages, everything!"

With a sharp sting, another red line forms. Vladimir hilariously laughs at me, and I pathetically tremble in fear. I panic, for I do not know what comes next.

"My sweetest Ben, you think you are so smart you could outsmart me. You are wrong. I knew the moment I sent the video, you knew it was me. I knew you were smart enough to initiate your plan in secret, because you had nobody to trust within and outside MI6. I knew you implanted a traceable gadget on your body. I knew you would risk yourself, so your lover can chase you here. Brilliant plan, yes, it was! Brilliant, but it was just as I expected. Young mind's thought. Shall I explain why?" He cuts me again around my arm, and I scream in terror.

"Why a person, who spent four straight days in office, uses lorry during midday, not tube, without a proper bodyguard. Because I sent a video to you, it is apparent that I was looking for you. You were waiting to be caught, creating obviously artificial chances. And from the needle mark on your arm, I knew that you implanted something, a tool of importance, crucial enough to inject it against your fright of needles. Other hints? Yes, the hint underneath the mug at MI6 that says, "trace Mike." Obviously, it is not a person but a letter, 'M.' Why M? That's because you and Bond closely relate to your 'mugs,' as much as the numbers Bond has broken over months. You see, Ben, you are so predictable. Even when you were young, you were a predictable child. And I pity you for that," Vladimir sneers at awestruck me. He traces my chin and touches my lips with his thumb. My heart pounds loudly, expressing my fear. My fear of Vladimir.

"Knowing your plan completely, I already set a next move. Your precious Bond is convinced that you are dead. He doesn't believe you are alive. He is one of everybody," Vladimir smiles at me, then kisses my cheek. I want to refuse him and run away. But he exploits me, telling me I am nonexistent to others, to people I love and cherish. I am dead to Bond. My plan turned to grand failure, and I will rot in this hell.

"Don't be sad, I am here for you. I brought you here for reasons," Vladimir aggressively kisses me, whispering love. I helplessly submit, for I have no strength left in me. It tastes bitter.

I feel exhausted. In fact, my eyes are heavy as lead, pulling me to sleep. May a deepest sleep I haven't had for awhile. This time, I hope not to wake up.


End file.
